Legacy
by mariel24j
Summary: Josh mourns his past, and rejoices in his future. A bit of angst amidst the fluff.


Legacy  
  
Author: mariel24j2002  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer: Mine, no. Aaron's, yes.  
  
Category: J/D, A/U as per my usual--but this one's quite angsty...at first. I tried, really!  
  
  
  
  
  
This is set in my previous fics' universe, ("Right Here" and "Tennis Balls and Magic Numbers", which you can find here on the list or drop me an email and I'll send you the links), but you don't really need to read them to get this.  
  
  
  
This is not beta-ed, so all boo-boos are mine--hope there aren't too many...  
  
Feedback: I am now officially a feedback junky...please feed the beast!  
  
The New England winter had finally eased its icy grip, but the ground beneath Josh's feet still crunched as he made his way through through the quiet cemetery. It was April, and one month since the Illinois Primary. One month since the day his father-- who in every way imaginable had made him, for good or bad, iuto the man he was-- had died in a sterile room, on a bed from which he was supposed to have risen stronger and healthier. He had fought so hard for so long, with the typical Lyman arrogance that there was nothing that couldn't be beaten when there was their brand of determination involved, and he had died alone--with his wife sitting in a waiting room nearby, still flipping patiently though People Magazine as she waited for his routine chemo appointment to end, and his only living child miles away, thrilling to a victory that he couldn't wait to cheer his dad up with.   
  
He still couldn't forgive himself. While he was celebrating, his mother had been made a widow. Of course there was no way he could have known, he was many things but psychic was not one of them, and the pulmonary embolism that killed Noah could not have possibly been predicted as more than a slight risk. But his line of work. was far too hectic to make anything more than an occasional visit home possible, and the years had flown by, and his priorities just hadn't changed fast enough for fate to allow his father to see Josh present him with his fondest wish--a grandchild. They had all thought there would be time.  
  
Locating the grave in the row of markers embedded in the ground was not difficult. The earth had, despite its seeming permafrost, broken up easily enough to allow his father's interment, and the grass that covered the other graves nearby had not yet taken hold here. Even after only a month, though, there were dried leaves and debris scattered across his father's name, and Josh knelt to clear them, running his fingertips across the raised letters as he did so. He remained that way, his knees dampened by the dew infusing the earth, reluctant to break the only connection to Noah he had left.  
  
His fingers traced the letters almost compulsively, caressing the name, unconciously increasing the pressure as he reached the date of death in a vain attempt to erase it. When the words began to blur from the tears that threatened he stood, reached into the pocket of his warm woolen coat, and examined the small stone he found there for a long moment before crouching to place it carefully on the gravestone. He then turned and walked the few steps to the next marker, reaching into the other pocket for the pink rosebud he had placed there so carefully. Pink was Joanie's favorite color.  
  
Time passed beyond his awarness as he stood between the graves, his face now turned not to the earth but to the heavens. An errant late-season snowflake brushed his cheek, and he looked back down towards her name, whispering, "take care of him for me, okay?" in a child's voice she surely would have recognized.  
  
Retracing his steps slowly, he arrived back at his car and settled into the driver's seat, giving the heater time to work before putting the car into gear. As the tires rolled over the still-frozen ground, he shivered.  
  
***************************************************  
  
SIX YEARS LATER  
  
It was June, and the chill of winter had finally been banished for good. He had been back here many times since that cold April, but without fail and no matter what the season it had always rained or snowed. Never before today had he felt the sun warm him as he stood in this same spot, staring down at the way the sun cast his shadow across their names. Turning to look behind him, Josh reached out a hand to Donna, who had held back a few paces in order to give him a moment alone. But over the course of his life he had been alone far too much, and he drew her closely to his side, yet again acknowledging to her and to himself how much he needed her there.  
  
"Happy Father's Day, Dad," he whispered, and knelt again as he had all those years ago. But Donna was by his side, and the grass beneath his bent knees was soft and green, and standing back up was not the agony it once was. Turning to his sister's marker, he crouched and deposited a remembrance there as well. As they turned to go Josh gave Donna a quick, hard hug, kissing her forehead and whispering "thank you" into her hair. When she gave him a questioning look, he spoke again, quietly but with conviction. "We're giving him his legacy."  
  
They walked back to the car slowly, arms wrapped around each other, Josh's hand a comforting presence on her swollen belly. The remembrances he had left remained. Next to the words "Joan Lyman" lay two rosebuds surrrounded by baby's breath, and just beneath the word "Noah" a small black and white, hazy sonogram picture, fluttering in the warm breeze but held down safely by three small, round stones. And Donna could swear, as she looked back one last time, that she heard a small voice calling out to her.  
  
"Take care of him for us, okay?"  
  
And from her heart, she silently whispered back, "I will."  
  
THE END 


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